Anchor Me
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: S03E24 The Divine Move coda. When Aiden dies, Derek contemplates the similarities and differences between this death and Boyd's, and he realizes too late that he's found a comforting anchor in an inadvisable place. Potential, but not necessarily, Sterek.


Another pack member lost... and it wasn't even his official pack, just another wolf. Both Derek and the twins had been looking for a space in Scott's pack, to be accepted and not alone, so in a way they had been a pack themselves, just not one bound by normal bonds.

Derek still remembered the last time he lost one, when he'd been forced to kill one of his own, when his alpha claws had been used to hurt those he cared about instead of to save them. This time it hurt, but not like the first time. But there was something wrong, something that made them equal, and Derek couldn't figure out what it was.

The first time it had been one of his own killed by his own hand.

The second time was a killer turned vigilante who died trying to change who he was. But he still fought for Derek and Scott. He still sacrificed himself. And Derek still failed to save him.

It still hurt.

Derek looked over Aiden's dead body, listened to the sobs of Ethan as he cradled his brother in his arms, and he found his chest aching just like the last time... and his eyes shifted back and forth, searching for a shadow in his peripheral, for someone behind him. But not a threat. He was searching for a friend, a friend who would ignore all the signs that said not to get too close and would give comfort when it wasn't asked for but was desperately needed.

The pressure of a kind hand on his shoulder, gripping his clothes forcefully to provide an anchor – Derek remembered that. He remembered the small, bright light in an endless sky of darkness and blood. No one but Laura had ever tried to give him comfort by touch, and most of that was Derek's fault, he knew, but it had been so long since anyone had tried.

And yet Stiles...

Stiles had barely hesitated. His heart had been beating so hard, so fast. Derek could feel it in the air and through his hand. But Stiles hadn't pulled away. He stood with his hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing it for reassurance, until Derek had enough time to process and pull himself together from the death. That hand was perhaps the only reason Derek had managed to pull himself through it all with any sense of self-appreciation left. It was a hand that said Stiles didn't fear him. Stiles didn't think he was a monster. It was a hand that said there were people in the world that didn't blame him for the death and would still trust him.

Listening to Ethan sob, Derek ached for that kind of reassurance again, wished that hand were on his shoulder once more. From the side, they heard Lydia cry out, and Derek turned in time to see her crumple into Stiles' arms at the top of the steps.

It shouldn't hurt so much, Derek thought, to see Stiles' comforting arms around another. He was the rock and anchor for many people, not just Derek.

And it shouldn't feel so good, either, to see Stiles – their Stiles – alive and well and providing that comfort and looking down on the scene with real concern, not the fake empathy of a fox. They'd won.

Derek felt the emotions mixing unwell in his stomach – happiness that they'd succeeded, depression at losing a fellow wolf, crippling empathy for another's pain, remorse for not being able to save someone, jealousy of Stiles comforting Lydia instead of him, and guilt for that jealousy.

Amber eyes locked with jade, and Derek knew Stiles could see his helplessness. Stiles pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and nodded, never breaking their eye contact. Derek imitated him: lips shut, deep breath, and a nod. Then they both turned to look at Ethan instead.

Comfort. How was it possible for Stiles to provide that from so far away? While giving the same to another? Derek let out his breath in a silent stream. He tried to focus on the grief and sadness of the moment, but his mind was at the stairs.

Anchor.

The word came to him and he snapped his gaze back up to the rescued teen. Those strong eyes flickered to him, checking for the cause of his sudden movement, but then looked away when nothing was found. Derek pressed his lips tighter together and his heart raced. Was it possible to have found an anchor in someone he'd known for so long? Of course. But why now? Why Stiles? It was inadvisable, inopportune, and would undoubtedly cause tension among the pack if others found out... and yet it felt like the only possible explanation.

Starting from that moment in the loft, when everything was wet and tragedy was thick in the air, Stiles had placed himself in a sticky position. Derek should have noticed it sooner, tried to subvert it, but it was too late. Even if Derek forced himself to find a new anchor, Stiles would be around, would keep popping up, and Derek would just have two anchors.

Derek placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder, the younger wolf collapsing under the weight, and found strength under Stiles' gaze. So his anchor was a human, one almost as broken as him. Derek could live with that. It might be a terrible, horrible idea, but that's how it was.

Now, he thought, glancing up at Stiles and Lydia, he just had to keep everyone else from finding out.


End file.
